


Even Smaller Broken Pieces

by AdriannakiBerlets



Series: Undertale Stories Based on Other's Aus [3]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Poor Sans (Undertale), Sans (Undertale) Remembers Resets, Sans thinks everything is his fault, Telling the truth, Toriel is in a coma, Toriel remembers resets, everyone cares, shutting down
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-04
Updated: 2019-02-04
Packaged: 2019-10-22 12:45:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17662901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AdriannakiBerlets/pseuds/AdriannakiBerlets
Summary: "(Mom… I… we… told them everything.) They signed, and despite their clear nerves the shine of their signature Determination shone in their eyes as they did so. (About the Resets… about Chara and Asriel… all of it. And… Sans told his side of it all too…) Frisk went on, a heavier somberness entering their demeanor. (Including the stuff about... Gaster… and... where he and Papyrus came from.)" - Frisk, from PaddieFrog's "All These Broken Pieces"Ahhhhh, I just had to!





	Even Smaller Broken Pieces

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PaddieFrog](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PaddieFrog/gifts).
  * Inspired by [All These Broken Pieces](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12067989) by [PaddieFrog](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PaddieFrog/pseuds/PaddieFrog). 



> This is a missing scene from "All These Broken Pieces" written by PaddieFrog. It. IS. AMAZING! If you haven't read it, READ IT.  
> I just wanted to write this scene, because I was a little bummed that we didn't actually get to see it happen in the story, though we hear about it.
> 
> Take place between chapters 32 and 33. Toriel now knows about the resets, after having slowly gained Sans's trust and love, but the consequences have led her to fall unconscious and in a coma, leaving frisk and Sans to finally tell the others the truth...

Sans felt ill almost the minute Toriel fell unconscious.

It was a mad rush, a frantic whirlwind of activity, to call for help. 911 was contacted, Asgore was contacted, Undyne was contacted; everyone was contacted. Through it all, Sans felt half dead, his bony hand clutching to Toriel's limp one as though he feared he was the only thing keeping her alive. He had no idea what had happened, why she had suddenly collapsed like that, but he suspected it had something to do with the shock of learning of Chara, and of Asriel. He could see the guilt on the kid's face, how they held Toriel's other hand, before Sans blocked out all but the shallow rise and fall of Toriel's chest. He focused on it, like it was his own body working; that if it should stop, his own soul would crack and break the rest of the way. He only noticed anything outside of his own, burning pain and guilt when Asgore and Undyne carefully pulled him away from her, the small skeleton putting up a desperate fight to stay by her side, until Undyne yelled a little sense into him.

He fell silent after that. He felt like he was underwater. They all piled into a car, following the ambulance to the hospital in a small, solemn procession. Papyrus was at his side in the back seat, a hand constantly rubbing up and down Sans's shoulder, but it felt far away and distant. Nothing as soothing as Papyrus's touch usually was.

And then they were at the hospital, in the waiting room. Sans paced. He paced and paced and paced, until someone came and made him sit down. When he tried to rise, they held him down and said something. He wasn't even sure who it was. He could feel people sit on either side of him. Keeping him now more gently in place, but he had given up.

The hospital was too white. Too clean. Too sterial. Too everything that reminded Sans of a past that was still so raw and painful. And now Toriel was here, and he had to fight against his traitorous thoughts when images of her being strapped down and injected tried to redden his vision. He had to remind himself that these were good doctors. That they were there to help Toriel, not hurt her.

He was shaking.

Alphys and Papyrus were trying to sooth him through his apparent panic attack he hadn't even noticed he was having. It sort of worked, but only when Papyrus clutched him to his chest, rocking him and helping him get his breathing under control.

The doctors said Toriel was in a coma.

Sans thought he felt his soul break.

This was his fault. This was all his fault. He shouldn't have given in and told Toriel about the resets. He should have just kept everything inside, like he had for so so long. His raised HP, which Toriel had made possible, shuddered and soured in his soul, threatening to sink further down than it ever had before. Only the prospect of Toriel wakening kept him from falling into despair completely, but it was a near thing.

When it came time to leave for the night, Sans fought as much as a dazed and exhausted skeleton can, trying to bargain with the nurses to let him stay the night. He wasn't Toriel's husband, and he wasn't technically family, so they said no. It was only Asgore's gentle prodding that finally got him out those hospital doors.

"We should all head back to the house and talk this out," he had murmured, his voice and deep and almost soothing rumble.

They had all nodded in numb agreement.

The house seemed so empty without Toriel there, mothering over everything and everyone. Sans hadn't realized how dependent he had come to be of her, how her presence always smoothed away the aches and pains of his past. He hadn't realized how nice, how _freeing_ it was to have someone _understand_. To have someone not just see him for the smiling fool he had become; a fool who hid all his suffering, thinking he was doing good only to slowly, _slowly_ destroy himself. Telling Toriel about the resets, about Gaster and his whole messed up childhood, had paved the way for actual healing, and he had just been starting to feel like a real monster again...

Deep down he knew.

If Toriel died, it would be his fault.

And all he could do was hope he would follow soon after.

Everyone was seated in the living room, murmuring softly. Sans, the minute he had walked through the door, had headed for the stairs, hoping to slink off to the dark seclusion of his room where he could be alone with his spiraling thoughts, but Frisk's hand closing gently around his wrist stopped him short. He looked down at them, tired, defeated; and they stared up at him, their hands moving in a slow and careful sentence.

(We need to tell them, Sans.) And he knew what they meant. (They need to know why this happened.)

_yeah. that this is all because i couldn't keep myself together_ , was his bitter thought. 

Instead of shrugging them off or arguing, to Frisk's amazement Sans actually nodded. A slow, resigned nod that spoke of just how this had all torn him down, stripped him to the very basic form of hopelessness. Moving their hand to Sans's hand, they led him back into the living room. Everyone looked up, all of them looking right at him and Sans nearly dug his heels into the carpet because what the heck was going to happen when they _found out?_ He had barely managed to talk to Toriel about this stuff, and now here he was, preparing to spill his guts to everyone he cared about.

What if they turned on him?

What if they hated him?

He wouldn't blame them in the least. He deserved their hate, for all the pain and suffering he had failed to stop back throughout the resets. aybe this was a justification of sorts. A means of the universe punishing him for all the times someone had died or gotten hurt because of him. He almost hoped they would hate him. He almost wished they would tear him apart and leave him in little broken pieces, make his outside match how he felt on the inside.

Frisk squeezed his hand, and Sans realized he had started breathing heavily again. (Don't be afraid), they signed, between them so that only he could see. Slowly. Carefully. Like he was some cornered mouse that had gotten its foot caught in a trap. (They're our friends. They won't hurt us.) Frisk then turned to the others, that ring of loved ones that encased the two of them in a half moon, leaving Sans feeling all the more trapped.

(We have...something important to talk about...)

And just like that, everything started coming out. Frisk talked for what felt like an eternity. They talked about how they fell into the underground, how they discovered their power to reset. When that was met with confusion, they explained what resetting was; what a load was; what a save was. Sans watched with detached fascination as the others listened, their expressions and reactions all so different. Once in a while a gaze would flit to him, taking in his form which he knew was shaking. He could feel himself shaking, even if it felt far away and numb. They were wondering why he already knew all of this. They were wondering how it was that he knew and that he was standing there, Frisk's hand covering his. It was obvious the child was in control of themselves, and that Sans was not. He wasn't supporting the kid, they were supporting him.

When it came to talk about Chara and Asriel, Flowey joined in, his voice mixing with Frisk's like two threads twining together. There was understandable disbelief from everyone, Asgore most of all, but Sans had to admit the big guy handled it a lot better than Toriel had. Chara's voice, which sounded so oddly different than Frisk's own, finally chipped in, the truth being laid bar for all to see. There was disbelief, horror, fear, and then that same crushing weight of realization that had come over Toriel that day oh so far away now, when Toriel had finally learned of everything. It cut at him, made Sans's legs want to buckle, knowing that far worse was to come.

And then everything fell foreboding quiet.

Sans blinked, realizing he had zoned out at some point. His bones rattling was the only thing audible in the living space, the force of his shaking perfectly readable to all present. They were all looking at him again, expectantly, and he vaguely realized he must have been asked a question. Who, and what, was they question, and he found himself sweeping his gaze from one to the next, searchingly, feeling lost.

"...w-what?"

A squeeze of his hand and he looked down. Frisk was staring up at him again, a sad, worried expression on their face. Slowly, they raised their hand, not hiding it this time.

(Your turn.)

Sans swallowed, his gaze returning to the others. They looked so confused, so uncertain. Papyrus looked about ready to cry. Asgore and Alphys looked like they already had. Undyne just looked...stunned, her hands fisted in her lap, clenching and unclenching them like she didn't know what to do with herself. Her single eye bore into Sans's own, demanding silently for him to speak.

And so he did.

He retold everything about the resets, from his own perspective this time. It was just as hard as it had been telling Toriel. He faltered hard and often, his voice a stuttering mess. He must have looked so pathetic and strange. Most of the others had never seen him so much as frown. Only Papyrus had ever seen him cry, and Sans became acutely aware that he _was_ crying, mutely. Once he got started, he couldn't stop - it was as though telling Toriel everything had paved a way for it to be told again, potholes catching on his soul as he thundered through it all again, to an audience he wished would just kill him and let this all end. But Toriel...

He was doing this for Toriel.

He was only doing this right now, because Toriel needed him to.

When the last of the resets and what he had done during them, what he had endured through them, Frisk cut in again, as did Flowey, the two working to try and sooth over the harsh reality with which Sans had spoken. They said it wasn't Sans's fault. They said Sans had tried his best; that he hadn't just let them all die again and again. Flowey even admitted to some of the worst resets he had done. How he had played with and baited Sans until he was all but broken. Chara spoke of how Sans had fought them in the hall, until they either killed him or they had reset. When Undyne expressed disbelief, sliding up the hem of his shirt silenced her, that scar visibly shocking them all to their core. Frisk had never seen it before then. They hadn't known he still had it. They burst into tears at the sight of it, lurching into a hug he couldn't help but flinch away from.

There were questions.

Lots of questions.

And then...silence.

That should have been the end of it. That should have been the end, and Sans could have blipped off to his room and no one would have said a thing about it. He still felt numb, like it wasn't really him standing there, his hand now free of the child's, from when he had backed away from everyone, his gaze staring a hole in the carpet. That should have been. the. end...

But then he started talking again.

He was vaguely aware of Frisk's eyes widening. Of Flowey's mouth hanging open. Of Undyne's look of shock and Alphys' slowly rising her hands to cover her mouth in horror. Of Asgore's look of guilt and pain, and the pure. honest hurt that took over Papyrus's expression. Sans told them all about Gaster; about what he had done to him. He told them more than he even told Toriel, because now he was revealing things and he couldn't get himself to stop, not until it was all out. He talked about Papyrus. He talked about where they came from, how they ended up the way they were. How they made it to Snowdin. Everything came out, until his chest hurt like he had emptied too much of himself, and the room once again fell to tense, horrible silence.

Papyrus slowly stood, and Sans couldn't meet his gaze.

Asgore rose to his feet, and Sans could feel his looming shadow.

Undyne pushed herself to her feet, and Sans could feel the stir of her magic.

Frisk took a step toward him, and Sans didn't move an inch.

Alphys...Alphys who knew more than anyone else what it was like to come clean about bad things she had been witness to or a part of...She slowly slipped from the couch and moved closer, Sans staring dully through her. She reached out a hand, carefully holding it out like he might get skittish and run. He might. But he couldn't get his body to react in any way. He felt cold, and useless. Emotionless, despite the tears running down his bone cheeks. She kept reaching, until the tips of her fingers brushed just barely against his arm.

"S-Sans...?"

His legs finally gave out.

He wasn't sure who caught him; maybe all of them did. All he knew was that he was being held, that arms of all sorts were trying to keep him supported and steady. His breathing was stinted, but he wasn't reacting in any way still. He was like a puppet, cut from its strings. He could hear them, calling to him, trying to help him, but he just couldn't bring himself to care. He shut down. He shut down and pretended he was someplace else. In another time, another life; safe from whatever harm was happening to him here, in the moment. Papyrus was crying, a soft, sniffling sort of sound, but he was also strong and soothing.

Sans felt nothing.

And he knew he never would again, until Toriel would wake up.

If she ever did.

...

..

.

"this is all my fault."

 


End file.
